Ten Thousand Tragedies

Wang Hangsheng was the first to arrive, it turned out, while the qi that wu Hao felt was still burrowing its way upwards, streaming through the passages underneath the mine, before the Stone Soul Sect martial artist stopped bothering using the passages at all and just dug his way through the mountain directly, creating a tunnel that was aimed at Wu Hao's feet.

Lan Yonbing, Wu Hao thought. Less confusing to just remember the man's name.

"How many?" Wang Hangsheng barked. "What grade? First? Second?"

"One," Wu Hao said. "Second-grade. Stone Soul Sect."

Wang Hangsheng exhaled. "Does he know?"

"I can feel him," Wu Hao said. "He's coming."

The guard that Wu Hao had knocked down paled. "Excuse me," he said.

"Minutes?" Wang Hangsheng asked, ripping his saber from its sheathe. His qi uncoiled completely, more of it than Wu Hao had thought that he'd had, and the serpent-scale tint in the air spread around him like an aura. "Seconds?"

"Seconds," Wu Hao said. For the first time he'd seen Wang Hangsheng tense. It was, he decided, surprisingly funny, considering he himself wasn't tense at all. "Five. Aiming directly for us now. Four -"

Wang Hangsheng clamped a hand on Wu Hao's shoulder and his movement technique, between one breath and the next, ripped them both through the air without touching the ground below their feet. When they handed Wang Hangsheng let go, sending Wu Hao to stumble back to his feet. He felt sick, and dizzy, but of course he didn't get a chance to recover.

The guard that they'd left behind looked over, then began to hobble over as quickly as he could. "Wait!"

In Wu Hao's head he counted, three, two, one.

Impact.

A giant clump of earth burst open beneath where they'd just stood, like a hole had been torn into the ground. The sides streamed up like two walls of dirt and stone and rock, forming a circle around their previous location and rising all the while, leaving not a single gap to let so much as air through. There was a loud thrum of earth and a louder groan of power, and Wu Hao watched with wide eyes as he watched the qi that'd been poured into what had to be a technique.

Then the walls curved in, smashing into each other and entangling into a dome that would've blocked out the sky and been barely wide enough to stand in for an adult man. The dome rumbled once and then abruptly compacted, the dirt exploding everywhere as purer stone ground it out.

Of the guard that'd been standing in the mines, there was very little left. Gore clung to the fragments of rock. Despite everything, a deep feeling of guilt ran through Wu Hao's mind.

Wang Hangsheng's arm came up, so coated in qi that Wu Hao couldn't even smell the stone anymore, his senses too clogged with the feeling of rotten well-water, and then Wang Hangsheng's arm blurred.

A whip of qi lashed out of his saber, like Wu Hao's Rending Dagger but more solid due to the greater amount of qi that'd been pumped into it. It rocketed forwards, fired like an arrow, and two pinpricks at at the forefront developed into something approaching fangs that bit into the stone dome and carved great furrows into it, furrows that were immediately filled with rainwater as it battered the stone.

A moment of silence. The Stone Soul Sect martial artist - Lan Yongbin - didn't appear. Wu Hao felt him, felt his diffuse presence be struck through with surprise that his opening move hadn't taken them out. Then that surprise faded away into consideration and then even that faded away as a new plan was forged in seconds.

Wu Hao, saber still in hand, felt the man sink deeper into the earth, and then lost him again. How had this Lan Yongbin done that?

Closing his eyes just to try and feel it better, Wu Hao reached out, but the first thing he could feel was the same layer of qi suffusing the earth around them. It wasn't an even layout by any means - occasional outlines of stone were visible, infused with more qi - and then Wang Hangsheng jarred him from his concentration.

"Introduce yourself!" Wang Hangsheng called. "Let us know who we're sending to the grave!"

But there was no answer other than the pattering of the rain and the dirt atop the dome beginning to turn into a mud as it was splashed with water.

"Find him," Wang Hangsheng growled.

Wu Hao's brows furrowed. The rain blasted against him and he felt Wang Hangsheng's qi gather itself again for another strike, scattering the rain up above that would've hit him with its intensity. He wore the serpent scales like a cloak of dull blue, but Wu Hao focused instead on the ground below.

Then he found it, or rather it found him. There was another concentration of qi there, building up to create another technique, and it was being formed rapidly.

"Behind us!"

Wang Hangsheng grunted, lifted a foot, and was gone in a blur of qi, leaving Wu Hao alone. Feeling more of that stone qi come together around him, Wu Hao felt his eyes sting from frustration and pushed qi to his feet and detonated it. He felt the earth drop away beneath his feet and turned in midair, eyes wide.

Where he'd stood, a clump of earth had formed into three spears that would've impaled him entirely through, and the ground beneath his position had been hollowed out into a hole large enough for him to be buried in.

"Where is he?" Wang Hangsheng shouted, loud enough that Wu Hao could finally hear him over the roaring of the wind in his ears. The rain lashed his skin, soaking him through and through, and as he landed his feet touched down into a grassy puddle, splashing his shoes with a vile wetness.

Wu Hao searched again, trying to locate their attacker.

"There!" he pointed, roughly towards where he was noting another emanation of qi. "He's -"

This time when Wang Hangsheng waved his saber a mouth full of fangs formed from its edge, building up in mere moments to become a sketch of a serpent's head that fell from high as if condensed from the raindrops. It smashed into the earth, burrowing deep as Wang Hangsheng held both hands to his saber as if he was controlling the serpent's head with his movements.

Wu Hao's eyes narrowed, spotting the thin thread that ran between the end of the serpent's head and Wang Hangsheng's saber. So that was how that technique worked, was it? Interesting to know.

Earth sprayed and churned as the serpent's head bit deep down into the ground, Wang Hangsheng's face turning slightly red from the exertion as his saber trembled like a fisherman's rod. Then he ripped it back up again, and with it he pulled a clump of earth and stone that was launched high in the air.

It unravelled midair and Wu Hao's eyes and senses followed it, studying the intricate patterns of qi that were manifesting themselves from the inside. Qi gathered within even as Wang Hangsheng too was gathering qi.

At the same time, though, Wang Hangsheng had whipped his arm back and was now pointing it at the soaring rock formation, then thrust it forward as if he was throwing his saber.

Another dull-blue whiplike slash launched itself from his saber, collecting power from the rain as it flew upwards and towards the rock, but at the same time there was a loud roar as the stone once more moved, bulged, and then exploded outwards.

A figure was revealed - the bearded, severe figure of Lan Yongbin. Chunks of stone rained everywhere like hail, smashing into the ground indiscriminately.

Then a chunk of stone hurtled towards Wu Hao and he was forced to revise that opinion.

Not indiscriminately. Discriminately.

He summoned qi to his saber, connecting it into a loop, churning it into the pattern, and then lashed out with the Tempest Slash.

Wu Hao's saber snapped like a living thing and carved through the rock like butter, before he twisted to prevent the two halves from still smashing into him. They soared past even so, clipping the skin of his arms and leaving heavy slashes along his elbow.

The technique hadn't ever been so strong, hadn't reacted so swiftly, hadn't come together so quickly. Wu Hao stared at his hands, regardless of the bleeding, and then cursed to himself for being a sitting duck and his head snapped up at more qi being raised.

Coat still flapping from the explosion, in mid-air, Lan Yongbin landed on the biggest chunk of stone. He pressed his fists to it, and when he pulled back claws made of stone followed the back of his hands. He raised them, once, just before landing with a loud impact, face-first, and if Wu Hao had hoped that meant anything that hope was dashed when Lan Yongbin sank, like a pearl diver going back for another haul.

Pillars of stone and dirt blasted out of the ground moments later, like the spears that had taken Wu Hao's foot yesterday, and raced forwards in an arcing formation that would smash into Wu Hao.

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Where was Wang Hangsheng? Why wasn't he the main focus? He was a second-grade martial artist! This wasn't -

Instincts screamed and Wu Hao sprang to the side as quickly as he could, slamming face-first into the mud and the muck before rolling with a wet squelch into the grass. More rock came howling through where he'd just stood, one of the pillars that Lan Yongbin had ripped up from the ground that had been set on a course to collide with Wu Hao and rip him in half.

Wu Hao backpedaled, pushed qi to his feet, detonated it and flew. He saw, as he did, that the road outside had been crushed and ripped apart, the source of Lan Yongbin's stone.

That wasn't important, though. It wasn't like Wu Hao could derive him of dirt or stone. Instead his senses scanned around, trying to spot where his so-called guard was.

Between the churning earth and the blurring of Lan Yongbin's presence moving around beneath it, the rain that dampened Wu Hao's senses, he was nearly blind. Wang Hangsheng was hard to track at the best of times, but Wu Hao had thought that he'd had the trick down, he just needed the time to apply it properly...

There!

Wang Hangsheng had concealed himself, unmoving, gathering qi to himself as the rain fell in rivulets down his short hair and soaked his back. He sat there patiently like a waiting hunter, and his qi had spread its rotting-water odor. He stared up at Wu Hao for a single moment, then jerked his head as he realized that Wu Hao could see him.

There was an unspoken question there - Wang Hangsheng was preparing his technique, but he needed Wu Hao to figure out where to aim it.

Wu Hao landed and skipped forwards, more small lances of dirt ripping into where his feet had just stood and where Lan Yongbin had figured he'd be standing. If they'd hit him he'd have lost his feet.

Instead he found himself sprinting, saber held high, a war-cry bubbling at the edge of his lips. The Storm-Cutting Saber Art felt right in ways that it never quite had before, like puzzle pieces finally slotting together, so much so that it made him giddy.

A blast of wind that had nothing supernatural snapped at him and Wu Hao all but danced on his feet, feeling the airstream pull at him and instead giving him all the more speed instead of blasting him back as it'd meant to.

Silly. Wind didn't think. Wu Hao focused himself.

Earlier than he'd thought possible he arrived just above where Lan Yongbin was swimming in the earth, pushed even more qi into his feet, and jumped higher than he felt he'd ever had before. The rain lashed him, the wind pulled at his clothes, the pain throughout his body was thrumming in his ears, but he felt extremely alive.

"There!" he roared as loudly as he could, even pushing qi to his throat to make the sound ring out. "Now!"

"Hidden Serpent Saber Art," Wang Hangsheng roared in response, inadvertently revealing himself. "Ophidian Strike!"

Wang Hangsheng's strike landed a single second later. It tore through the earth like a knife tore through paper, an immense blue wave composed of a single giant head spiking down into the earth, like his earlier technique but much more so. If all of Wu Hao's qi had been pushed into one technique he might have rivaled it for size, but not for skill.

There was a loud snap and then the earth shook with anger, but before it could do much more there was a crunch and then the sound of something being torn up. This time when Lan Yongbin was forced to resurface he didn't have the armour of stone that protected him.

And instead of rain, what ran down in rivulets on his face was blood. Deep wounds had been left on his scalp and the clothes on his right arm had been shredded by Wang Hangsheng's technique, leaving it to dangle at his side in ways that suggested it wasn't fully connected anymore.

He stared at the both of them. Wang Hangsheng twisted on his foot and stepped away, his presence fading immediately as he reactivated his stealth technique. Wu Hao panted.

Fuck it, he thought. He'd gotten himself into this fight, and he might as well finish it.

He pushed himself forward as hard as he could, his feet sore from the landing and complaining at every step as he forced himself into a run. The rain pulled at his clothes and he felt like he was touching onto something, something huge and yet small.

Wu Hao angled his saber, forced the qi that he'd saved by making a mad dash into it, and connected the loop of qi. The current sputtered into life and his saber groaned, the metal straining to sustain the screech that he'd managed earlier.

When he reached Lan Yongbin, the man's eyes had sharpened. His qi blazed with determination, his left arm raising, the claw turning sideways. The man's qi spoke of no surrender, but neither was a calm acceptance. Lan Yongbin had abandoned the idea of escape, and instead he'd settled on trying to take both of them with him into hell.

Activating the Lightning Bolt technique, Wu Hao felt the patter of the rain on his soaked clothes fade just for a moment as he flashed forward, but then a jarring clang of impact as Lan Yongbin's stone claw repelled his attempt to finish it all in one blow. Spinning on his back foot, he forced more qi through it, knowing that he had maybe one or two techniques left in him, at the utmost.

Again the saber screamed, the current snapping like a living thing at Wu Hao and at Lan Yongbin both as Wu Hao balanced his need for control with a need for simple brute power, both balancing on a razor's edge. He cut anyway and his saber cut through Lan Yongbin's weaker side, carving into the flesh of the man's useless arm.

But in response the dirt beneath his feet rose and his feet caught. Only a quick application of qi sent Wu Hao soaring upwards, the skin of his feet rupturing from the force of the instinctual movement. The wind roared in his ears and he felt, for an instant, weightless.

Blown about by the wind, he felt that searing sort of connection again. It was like a consistent voice, calling out to him from a great distance, where he could hear its words if he just strained his ears a little more.

His saber pulled him back down to earth, though, and the connection faded as the sensation of weightlessness began to fade.

One move, he thought, checking the qi he had left. Better to make it count. For this, he'd need to vocalize the technique.

"Storm-Cutting Saber," he roared into the uncaring wind around him. Lan Yongbin, who had fended off an attempt by Wang Hangsheng to finish him off with a desperate dodge, jerked his head up to look at Wu Hao. "Chasing Thunder."

Wu Hao's fall accelerated until it came to a sudden, jarring stop, too fast even for his own eyes to track, so hard that his vision cut out for a breath. When it returned, he saw Lan Yongbin.

The bandit's saber had struck him like a thunder bolt directly in the heart. Where his chest had been and where the design of the Stone Soul Sect had once featured, instead there was just a red ruin. Lan Yongbin sagged onto the saber and Wu Hao was barely able to struggle back onto his feet, feeling utterly exhausted.

Once again, he'd slain a second-grade martial artist as a third-grade himself.

Pride warred with a bone-deep exhaustion and the misery of the lashing rain, but as he slumped he felt another ripple of qi nearby and tried to turn.

But Wang Hangsheng was faster, and his saber plunged deep into Wu Hao's ribcage.

Wu Hao stared into Wang Hangsheng's eyes, attempting to complete his turn out of inertia. The man's thorned saber was the only thing that held him upright.

"Why?" he mumbled, feeling blood bubble up in his chest.

He could feel the rain, dripping down his face and seeping into his clothes. The mud was sucking at his feet, and he felt like he was being pulled as if by some great hand. In the cold and the damp, even the pain seemed steadily to fade away like the rest of his senses.

"Blame your level of talent," Wang Hangsheng said, and ripped the saber out of Wu Hao's stomach. The barbs hooked his skin and inflicted an even nastier wound while exiting than it had on the initial stab. "I'm cutting down my competition before it can grow."

Wu Hao breathed his last breath, feeling the muck starting to pull him down. He was gone before he hit the ground.